Let the Games Begin
by Princess Persephone
Summary: How Chuck and Blair's summer game between S2 and S3 got started. A two-part fic featuring a bar, a blonde, the back seat of the limo, and our favorite couple.
1. Chapter 1

**Let the Games Begin**

* * *

**Chapter One**

**

* * *

**

"So, has this date lived up to your expectations?" Chuck asked.

It was their fifth date, though the first that had actually run according to plan. The last few forays into public had been rather unsuccessful—well, from a certain point of view.

The first "date" had been an appearance at a charity fund-raiser hosted by the Colony Club; Blair had taken Chuck along after receiving an invitation, ready to daringly shove her new "piece of work" boyfriend in the Club's snooty argyle faces. But Chuck and Blair had only lasted 15 minutes before disappearing from the bore-fest to their waiting limo. While getting all dressed up and parading triumphantly around were all well and good, having her boyfriend first undress her with his eyes, and then with his hands, was even better.

Their second "date" had been a weekend stay at the Archibalds' Hampton beach house. Nate was in Europe and his mother was visiting the Vanderbilt family home, so Chuck had gotten permission and was determined to experience the Hamptons the way they should have been experienced with Blair last summer. The only trouble was that the couple had hardly left the house. Or the private beach on the property. After returning to the city, Blair had complained of all the sand that had gotten in her hair…and Chuck had promised to help her get it all out in the shower back at home. And he thoroughly kept his promise.

The third outing had been an attempted regular dinner and drinks at Butter, but when the club somehow screwed up their reservation, the duo had ditched their evening plans for a more…full-filling pastime in Chuck's suite.

Their fourth "date" had involved a shopping outing in the middle of the day. The browse through accessories went flawlessly: an added bow tie and scarf on his side, a matching headband and clutch on hers. But they'd never made it to actual outerwear—once Chuck had convinced Blair to try on lingerie, he'd taken one look, bought it all on the spot, and they'd raced out of Barneys so fast that the revolving door was still spinning as the limo sped off.

So all in all, the fact that they'd lasted this long tonight without slipping up to the roof to rip each other's clothes off was a feat in and of itself. Gossip Girl would be proud. This time they'd lasted through a whole dinner. With other people in the room. In comparison with the previous attempts, this date was running perfectly.

Across the table, Blair pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Drinks, dinner…and actually leaving the bedroom for once," she said, counting the points off on her fingers. "The only thing missing is dancing." She nodded to the dance floor and raised an eyebrow. "What do you say, Bass?"

Chuck leered good-naturedly. "Feeling you up in public—one of my favorite pastimes," he said, standing up and offering her his hand. "How could I possibly say no?"

Blair accepted his help and stood up, their bodies inches apart. She met his eyes, a challenge lurking under the surface. "I have to go powder my nose," she said. "But after that, dancing? And can you try and behave?"

"For you? I suppose I can manage it." He leaned in, his lips grazing her cheek before he whispered in her ear, "But you'll have to make it up to me."

Blair unsuccessfully tried to repress a shiver as he backed away. Her insides were molten just at the gravely tone of his voice. She gave him a hot look. "Get me another drink and I'll make it worth your while," she promised.

"Your wish is my command, my Queen." Chuck nodded his head, taking the martini glass from Blair's hand, his fingers intentionally brushing hers.

She shot him a bright smile, grabbed her purse, and headed off to the ladies' room, her perky ass looking utterly delectable in her form-fitting, bright red Waldorf original dress. Chuck offered a silent thanks to Eleanor for creating such wonderful clothes.

Snatching his scotch glass from the table, Chuck made his way to the bar, unable to keep a small, satisfied smile off his face. He could hardly remember ever being in such a good mood, especially for so long. It was early July and they'd been together for over a month. And he could hardly remember why it had been such an ordeal to get together in the first place—they just fit. From this side of the relationship line, there was no reason for them not to be together. Blair understood him—and accepted him—in ways that no one else did, not even Nate. They were Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck; a perfectly matched pair.

"Scotch, no ice. And a dirty martini," he said, after signaling the bartender. The drinks arrived quickly and Chuck glanced over at the doors to the bathrooms, but didn't see Blair.

A hand appeared, claiming the martini sitting next to Chuck's elbow.

"You know," a voice said, "a man's never ordered me a drink without even saying hello before."

Chuck took her in: endless tan legs, sculpted shoulders, salon blonde hair, and a D-cup rack. Nothing he hadn't had before—and nothing he wanted.

She took a long sip from the martini. She was plastered. Or certainly on her way there.

"Excuse me?" he asked politely.

Her lips parted and she took a somewhat wobbly step closer, leaning in so that their arms brushed "accidentally."

"Aren't you Chuck Bass?" she asked, her eyes widening a little.

Chuck nodded, checking his watch. Dealing with a drunken flirt was not on his agenda tonight. "Yes," he said in a flat voice. "And that drink is actually for my girlfriend."

The blonde's lips twisted in amusement. "Please," she said, waving the drink in her hand. "Chuck Bass doesn't _do_ girlfriends. Everyone knows that." She giggled. "Unless it's someone _else's_ girlfriend."

Chuck certainly did remember a time when he spouted such sayings proudly, when those very words had most likely dropped from his lips with a conceited smirk. Boasting about his lack of real relationships, his many conquests, and his philosophy of sex, drugs, and revenge had really occupied his time. A time when selfish desires ruled his world. Chuck Bass didn't have a girlfriend—Chuck Bass didn't _want _a girlfriend. Chuck Bass didn't date. Chuck Bass _scored_. Hard. Every night with someone different. He never fucked between the same legs twice.

Until Blair.

"Even _I'm_ not drunk enough to believe that one," the girl continued. She sent him a flashy smile. "I noticed a limo outside. It's yours, isn't it?"

"I wasn't aware that my transportation of choice was known by common Lower West Siders," Chuck said scathingly.

His tone was lost on the blonde. "Don't you want to take me for a ride in it?" she asked playfully. She ran a finger down his chest. Her breath smelled strongly of the gin she'd just inhaled from Blair's now empty martini glass, and her cheap, fruity perfume was so…common. "I can be _very_ good company." She let out a giggle, throwing an arm around his neck. "Or very _bad_ company. _Whatever_ you want."

Chuck tried to disentangle himself from her grasp. "Listen, I'm waiting for someone—"

"Well, it looks like you found someone, doesn't it?" she asked breathily, her face aiming for his.

Chuck dodged her glossed lips, rather frustrated at the way she clung to him. "I'm serious, I'm waiting for my girlfriend," he insisted.

"And I told you, that trick doesn't work on me. Stop playing hard to get, Bass," she pouted. "I know you'll screw anything in a skirt. And I happen to be wearing a skirt." She lowered her voice in a way she no doubt thought was sexy but just made her sound whiny. "And I could really use a good fuck."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Blair's voice cried.

Chuck's eyes shot to his girlfriend. Blair stood a few feet away, hands on her hips, her eyes narrowing as they zeroed in on the way the blonde was pressing herself against him.

"Blair," he started to explain, unhooking the blonde's arm from around his neck and pulling away. "I didn't—"

"I leave you for five minutes, Bass, and you've already got a girl crawling all over you?" Blair interrupted, her voice hard. She raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you were going to behave?"

"Well I tried," Chuck bit out darkly, straightening his jacket. "She wouldn't back off."

"Let me guess," the blonde simpered, looking between them. "You're the girlfriend, right?"

Blair glared at her. "Yes, in fact, I am. And the guy you were just throwing yourself at is my boyfriend. But you must have known that."

"She did," Chuck said.

The blonde simply smiled. "Let me give you some advice: No one can hold down Chuck Bass, so you may as well give up now."

Chuck and Blair stared at the blonde.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," she continued, "but he was all over me. He even bought me a drink and wouldn't stop talking about his limo. So I guess you're over." She shrugged her shoulders in a completely fake gesture of female sympathy. "He doesn't want you any more."

Chuck could sense the storm clouds brewing. He was almost surprised he couldn't see them above Blair's head.

"Actually, no one _else _can hold down Chuck Bass," Blair sneered, her face hard in anger. "I'm Blair Waldorf. I can. And I don't need to hold him down, anyway. I'm not afraid he's going to run away." She took a step closer to the girl at the bar. "So _you _might as well give up now, because Chuck Bass is off the market. And even if he was still single, he wouldn't lower himself to sleep with a tipsy made-over Barbie doll who doesn't know Manolo Blahnik from Jimmy Choo. And who the hell throws themselves at a guy they know is taken, anyway?" Blair cried. "Did you think he'd just cheat on me and I wouldn't find out? We're at the same fucking club! Together!"

"Guys cheat all the time," the blonde said cattily. "And I know your _boyfriend's _reputation. Besides, he ordered me a drink first. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Slut." Blair took Chuck's drink from his hand. "That drink you guzzled was for me." Blair tipped the glass and poured the scotch down the front of the blonde's pink dress. "And this is what you get for trying to steal someone else's man."

"This is couture!" the blonde shrieked, grabbing her dress.

A long, wet patch covered her front. It would stain. Chuck felt oddly proud of his little vixen's revenge.

"It's a knock off," Blair said nastily. "Just like you."

And with that, Blair slid her hand into Chuck's, turned on her heel, and marched toward the door, the small crowd that had gathered parting for the couple's exit.

* * *

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Ahoy! Smut ahead. Just so you know. ;) This whole story is what comes with me being bored at work last week and reminiscing about 3x01.

* * *

**Let the Games Begin**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Two**

"That was perfectly good scotch," Chuck said, as he entered the limo.

"Shut up!" Blair cried, getting in quickly and slamming the door shut. "Arthur, drive!" she shouted, throwing her purse at the seat across the limo.

"Where to, Ms. Waldorf?" the driver asked, not even batting an eye at Blair's lack of restraint. He had learned a long time ago that nothing was out of the ordinary when it came to Chuck Bass, and now that Blair Waldorf was his girlfriend…the same rule applied for her as well.

"Anywhere!" Blair exclaimed. She smacked the button that raised the partition between driver and passenger. As soon as it closed, she attacked.

One minute Chuck was sitting there on the seat, the next he was overcome by a hurtling body, silk dress, and long chestnut curls. Blair straddled him quickly, grabbed him by the hair, and smashed her lips against his, taking the kiss hard and brutally. Stunned for a moment, Chuck quickly regrouped, parting his lips and wrapping an arm around her waist.

They kissed open-mouthed, hot and wet, delirious with want until Chuck was brought to a sharp awakening when Blair tugged his hair a little too hard in her fervor for more.

He broke away with a chuckle. "Someone's ready to play rough."

Blair glared at him. "I've been ready to play, Bass," she muttered, her lips brushing his again. "I just don't like sharing—or other people trying to steal my things."

Chuck smirked, brushing her hair to one side and leaning closer. "She couldn't have stolen me," he whispered into her ear. "I'm yours, remember?"

Blair sighed, her fingers relaxing their death grip in his hair.

He smiled against her throat. "My jealous little kitten," he murmured, nipping the delicate flesh lightly with his teeth. At her gasp, he soothed the area with a kiss, which soon led to a gentle sucking. God he loved her neck. She purred in pleasure, leaning forward and pushing him further into the seat. Her hands drifted down to his chest, where she fumbled to unbutton his shirt and bare his dark chest hair to her eager fingers and eyes. She had a thing for his chest hair—maybe it was the fact that he had it, unlike her previous boyfriends. Maybe it was just yet another symbol for the fact that Chuck was more of a man in her eyes than any of those boys ever were. Maybe she just liked it because it was dead sexy.

His hands drifted to her thighs, slowly inching their way up, pushing the skirt of her dress higher and higher. Blair pulled back abruptly, grabbed her dress at the bottom, and swiftly tugged it over her head without a care as to where it landed. Her lingerie was the exact same shade as her dress: a fiery, hot red that demanded attention. She met his dark eyes with a pleased smirk; Blair knew she enticed, in fact, she had worn this very number just to tempt him all night.

An expectation hovered in the air between them. Blair raised an eyebrow and reached behind her back to undo her bra.

Chuck shrugged out of his shirt so fast he was almost certain he'd ripped a seam. But who cared when he had Blair straddling him clad in nothing but her La Perlas? God, he loved how wanton she could be when she was with him. His prim and proper princess was a wildcat underneath. The cold exterior and the fire below had always fascinated him, even before they'd slept together that first time after Victrola. And now that they were finally together, he got to coax out that real Blair, that catty, bitchy, fiery sex goddess all the time, as much as his heart desired. Which was a lot.

He reached out, a hand weighing one of her soft, luscious breasts. His other arm snaked around her back, and he pulled her forward until he could nuzzle his face against her chest. He dragged a thumb against one of her nipples, and her answering gasp encouraged him to capture one of the peaked buds in his mouth, laving gently and sucking until her back arched, sending her pelvis rocking against his, creating delicious friction. She let out a mewling moan.

Fuck his pants were tight. Chuck pulled back, panting. "Blair," he gasped, grabbing her hips.

She understood at once, leaping up to help divest him of his trousers. She pulled his boxers down and his erection sprang free, standing straight up and out from his body, seeming to point directly at what he wanted: Blair. She shot him a smile and slowly slid her panties down. The soft sound of silk against skin brought a shudder down his spine. Blair primly stepped out of her panties and settled back over him. She brushed her wet slit against his weeping cock and he let out a string of curses.

"Take me for a ride," she demanded, rather tauntingly. The look in her eyes told him she knew just what that blonde at the bar had wanted: this. And there was no way she was going to let some slut take her man. The idea of Blair prowling around, ready to defend her stake on him was so hot. There was no need for her to worry—the limo was sacred, and even more, he didn't want anyone else. He could never want anyone the way he wanted Blair.

She rocked forward, her breasts brushing his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck. He licked her collar bone, savoring the salt of her skin. Chestnut curls spilled around her shoulders and down her bare back, kissing his cheeks and filling his head with the heady scent of her. His hands gripped her waist in an attempt to still her movement, gain some sort of control, slow it all down. But Blair bucked against his restraint, shoving him hard into the leather seat of the car.

Eyes liquid pools of lust, she smiled wickedly. "Don't be gentle, Bass. Fuck me."

She rocked against him again and he couldn't stand it. He thrust up, his cock surging into her tight, wet heat like nothing else mattered in the world—and soon nothing else did. The only things that existed were his cock, her cunt, and his deep, driving thrusts.

Grabbing handfuls of her ass possessively, Chuck plunged into her fast and hard, again and again and again. Hips slamming together; sweaty, salty skin slapping wetly; her cries of pleasure echoing in his ear. She rode him like a pro, meeting him thrust for thrust.

"I can fuck you, Blair," he groaned. "Your plump little ass has been begging for it all night…God, you feel good." He grunted, sliding down the seat and using his legs to push himself up from the floor of the limo. He pumped into her harder, faster, filling her to the hilt. Soon she was frozen in his arms, her nails digging into his back and the slick walls of her core squeezing him until he erupted hot and wet, shaking in her arms with the force of his climax.

They lay against each other, panting as the sweat cooled on their still connected bodies. Blair stretched languorously against him, a contented shiver running down her spine. She rested her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder, breathing him in.

"Jealous sex is hot," she commented dreamily. He chuckled in response, catching one of her hands in his and entwining their fingers.

"You telling off that bitch was hot, too," he said. She giggled into his shoulder and raised her head up to meet his eyes.

"You think so?" she asked.

"Of course."

Blair shrugged. "She didn't seem to understand that you were taken—"

"And all the happier for it," he added, leaning in to meet her lips.

Blair smiled against him, relishing the sweet kiss after such a fast, hot bout of lovemaking. She snuggled back into the crook of his neck.

"I almost wish we could do it again," she murmured.

"You _would_ get off on yelling and telling other girls what to do," he laughed, one of his hands patting her ass.

She bit her lip on a giggle. "Well I'm a queen. It's what I do."

"I wouldn't have you any other way," he said, gathering her up in his arms and swinging their bodies so that they lay on their sides against the seat. No one who knew them would believe that Chuck Bass or Blair Waldorf cuddled after sex. But they didn't care.

"Chuck," Blair said after awhile, leaning up over him. "Could we do it again?"

Chuck looked up from her breasts, which were delightfully bare right before his eyes. He grinned. "Well, I'm up for round two if you are," he said smarmily.

She smacked his arm lightly. "You know that's not what I mean. I mean, could we…" she trailed off, suddenly a little shy. "Could we do it again as in get a girl to hit on you, and me tell her to back off from my boyfriend again?"

"Like pick her out ahead of time?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, intrigued. "Plan the whole thing?" He smirked, tightening his grip on her waist. "Sounds like a fine game to me."

"You know, you're not supposed to like it when they flirt with you," she said, pouting.

"I don't," he said. "I like it when you yell at them. You're so hot when you're angry." His eyes brightened. "Will you slap the next one?" he asked hopefully.

Blair laughed. "If she's very bad. I just might, actually. We can't have half of New York thinking you're still available. Not everyone reads Gossip Girl."

"I think," he said, brushing a few curls behind her ear, "it sounds like a brilliant game. I can't wait to play." He leaned up, his lips aiming for hers.

"Neither can I," Blair said, kissing him softly. He moaned and she could feel him hardening against her. She smiled. "The question is, Bass, do you know all the rules?"

"I think so," he whispered huskily. "But you better go through them with me first, just in case I've got them wrong."

"Oh, I plan to do just that," she answered, meeting his mouth again with hers.

"Then let the games begin."

* * *

fin


End file.
